


Whisky Valentine

by Zigster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossword Puzzles, John's favorite, M/M, awkward male flirting, good scotch, pubs, really good scotch, undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:13:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zigster/pseuds/Zigster
Summary: "He hears the man at the bar order two fingers worth of John’s favorite single-malt Scotch. He looks up to see the barkeep pour it over a large ball of ice in a fine Waterford crystal glass. The man takes the glass and swirls the Scotch in the palm of his large, pale hand and John finds himself waiting for the man to take a sip. The man never does which only makes John frown in confusion. Why had he ordered such an expensive spirit if he wasn’t going to enjoy it? When the man turns to lean his elbows back on the bar, John quickly shifts in his seat and refocuses on his puzzle."A different first meeting (do I write anything else?) written in the spirit of Valentine's Day.





	Whisky Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd but well looked over.  
> Not brit-picked but researched.  
> Pour yourself a dram and enjoy.

* * *

 

 

A bell chimes above the door as another customer enters the pub, throwing light across the wide, oak floorboards and slashing a bit of sunlight over the dark-paneled walls littered with foxhound portraits. John looks up from his crossword, the answer to 13D on his lips. He takes note of the new presence standing at the bar in a long coat with an upturned collar and then turns his gaze downward to the newspaper on the table in front of him.

 

The entire puzzle is themed with clues like _‘star-crossed’_ and _‘Shakespearean ill-fated couple_ ’ and ‘ _1978 Tom Wait’s chart-topper_ ’ and John smirks sardonically down at the thing, feeling a twinge of irritation at the irony of it all. He’d pulled the paper onto his table from its abandoned position along the bar top because he’d wanted a distraction while he waited for his date to arrive. They had planned to meet up at half seven, it was now half eight.

 

He hears the man at the bar order two fingers worth of John’s favorite single-malt Scotch. He looks up again to see the barkeep pour it over a large ball of ice in a fine Waterford crystal glass. The man takes the glass and swirls the Scotch in the palm of his large, pale hand and John finds himself waiting for the man to take a sip. The man never does which only makes John frown in confusion. Why had he ordered such an expensive spirit if he wasn’t going to enjoy it? When the man turns to lean his elbows back on the bar, John quickly shifts in his seat and refocuses on his puzzle.

 

 _Blue Valentine_ , he thinks for 20A and notes it in neat, tiny script.

 

The door chime rings again and John looks up to see the man leave, the wind from outside blowing the hair back off his aristocratic face. John blinks and glances towards the bar, the Waterford crystal glass is still there, still full. The man has placed a coaster atop the glass, indicating he’ll return. He’s a smoker, apparently.

 

A matching glass is placed in front of him, startling him out of his thoughts.

 

“Shezza said you needed one of these,” the barkeep rasps in a deep, Limey accent. John stares at him, perplexed by more than just the odd name.

 

“Shezza?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

No other explanation is offered to John before the barkeep returns to his rightful place behind the dark mahogany and John is left staring at the Scotch in bewilderment. He picks up the drink and sniffs, the spice, peat-smoke, and oak-barrel caramel warmth make his eyes fall close and he smiles before taking a taster’s sip. It’s perfect. He places the glass down and goes back to his puzzle, his mood inexplicably turning for the better.

 

“It’s good then, I take it?”

 

John jumps, his pencil snapping. The man from the bar, who is apparently called Shezza, picks up the chair on the other side of the table, twirls it around and straddles it, his arms laying across the seat back with a relaxed grace.

 

“How did you--”

 

“Backdoor. More discrete.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Shezza nods then conjours a pen from one of his deep coat pockets and hands it to John.

 

“You’ll be needing this, it seems.”

 

“Oh, thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

John takes the proffered pen and clears his throat. He raises an eyebrow and points to the puzzle in a questioning gesture.

 

“Would you mind?” Shezza asks.

 

“No, please. Have at it.” John pushes the paper across the tabletop to his new companion, slightly confused at the odd turn of events but not upset by them.

 

Shezza (is that really his name?) studies the clues for perhaps five seconds before quickly jotting down the answers to six in a messy scrawl. John’s eyebrow quirks at the display and leans over to read.

 

“Freyja?”

 

“Yes. Norse mythology. Goddess of sex.”

 

John snorts and shakes his head.

 

“What?” Shezza asks as a crease appears between his eyebrows.

 

“I think you mean love, don't you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh. Well then. Cheers.” John raises his Scotch and sips, wondering why Shezza left his back on the bar. “Aren’t you going to drink yours?”

 

“Hmm?” Shezza doesn’t look up from the puzzle. He writes in two more answers.

 

“Your Scotch.”

 

Shezza looks up then, the crease between his eyebrows reappearing and then smoothing out in realisation. “Oh!” The man practically leaps from the chair to retrieve his forgotten drink. John stares after him, amused.

 

“Yes. Cheers,” Shezza says upon returning. He takes a sip, pulls a face and coughs into the back of his hand. John can’t help but laugh.

 

“You’re not a drinker, are you?”

 

“Of course I am.”

 

“Sure.”

 

"You don't believe me?" 

 

John smiles. "Not really." 

 

"It's a good brand, no?" Shezza asks, eyeing the amber liquid in his glass.

 

"Very good."

 

"I'm more of a wine drinker if offered."

 

"Then why order the whisky?"

 

Shezza's eyes cut across to John's and he finds a deep concentration behind the gaze. What is this odd man hiding, John wonders? 

 

A silence falls between them as Shezza returns to the puzzle and scribbles down more answers. John looks on in contented mirth. He's not mad at this man. In fact, his company is rather amusing, if not confounding. 

 

“Is your name really Shezza?”

 

“God, no.”

 

John laughs. “Then why did the barkeep call you that?”

 

“He’s senile.”

 

“Right.”

 

Another silence. Shezza finishes the puzzle, turns the page of the newspaper and frowns, seemingly disappointed at there not being an endless number of puzzles to solve.  

 

“So much for my crossword.”

 

“You said you didn’t mind.”

 

John nods. “Yeah, I just didn’t think you’d know everything.”

 

“Well, that’s your mistake. Of course, I know everything.”

 

“Like the type of Scotch I drink?”

 

Shezza quiets, his body going very still. John’s lip twitches with the barest hint of satisfaction.

 

“How’d you know?” John asks. 

 

“I guessed.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Shezza stands, twirls the chair back round to the correct side, sits and leans back, his long legs crossing one over the other in a willful display of elegant defiance. John lowers his chin in response. If he were wearing reading glasses, he’d be looking over their rim at the odd man.

 

“Prove it.”

 

Shezza smiles. “You sure?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Shezza leans forward, arms folding on the tabletop. John knows a challenge when one is laid down before him and holds the man’s intense gaze, but Shezza twists to the side a moment later, his hand reaching out to grab John’s satchel on the floor by his feet. John wonders if he's about to witness a magic trick or be the victim of a very elaborate mugging scheme, but all Shezza does is collect John’s key ring from where it hangs off the leather strap and picks up the brass souvenier John purchased while visiting Bruichladdich Islay last summer. John lowers his head and rubs at his eyes in defeat, a chuckle escaping his mouth. 

 

“Of course,” John says while Shezza’s face glows with pride as it transforms into a warm, sincere smile.

 

The man snorts an undignified laugh at John's expense and calls to the barkeep for another round before saying, “I didn’t know. I _noticed_.”

 

“And then you bought me a drink.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

Shezza’s head tilts. “Why not?”

 

“Do you often buy complete strangers expensive single-malt whisky?”

 

“No, I’ve actually never purchased anyone a drink before.”

 

John blinks at the man. “I believe you.”

 

“Really?”

 

"Yes." 

 

"Score one for me."

 

Shezza fiddles with the pen in his fingers, John watches, amused. 

 

“Does that make me special?” John's question is as abrupt as the original thought. The warmth of the whisky has relaxed his manners.

 

Shezza ducks his head and John thinks he spies a blush coloring his new friend’s high cheekbones. John figures he might be special, after all and the idea doesn't displease him. 

 

“What’s your real name?”

 

Shezza abruptly sits up straight with a flourish. “Sherlock Holmes.”

 

John laughs. Of course, his name would be high-class pompous snobbery at its best.

 

“I’m John Watson.”

 

The two men shake hands - a doctor’s firm, warm grip meeting with the high society embrace of long, pale fingers. Another glass is placed down in front of John and he grins across the table. Neither of them let go of the other’s hand. Their smiles widen and their cheeks grow warm. It has nothing to do with the whisky. 

 

Sherlock Holmes solved the puzzle of John Watson by buying him a glass of Bruichladdich on a whim.  

 

Perhaps later, John will repay the favour.

  


_-fin-_

* * *

 

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This is being posted late, but Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

In case anyone would like to learn more about John's perfered drink - [go forth!](https://www.bruichladdich.com/)

I think I'll send this over to [HIATUS for their February challenge](https://hiatustory.tumblr.com/) - Come find me on Tumblr if you'd like: [Zigster-Ao3](https://zigster-ao3.tumblr.com/)

* * *

 

Thanks for stopping by and reading! Don't forget to comment if convenient. 


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